


Germany Dials the Swearing Hotline

by auroramcchicken



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Germany goes on a vocal rampage, He hates everyone, Inspired by the Bugle, M/M, The swearing hotline is real, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroramcchicken/pseuds/auroramcchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany is so stressed, he's about to pop a blood vessel. The swearing hotline promises to fix it, and maybe reveal something that he's tried to keep hidden. Also contains Silvio Berlusconi jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Germany Dials the Swearing Hotline

Germany (mostly) loved his people.

At this point in time, he had a few favorites, though. Two of his entrepreneurs, Ralf Schulte and Alexander Brandenburger, had recently developed a hotline where one can verbally abuse the person on the other end. It wasn't exactly a secret that Germany was capable of getting angry, so he thought he'd try it.

"You have reached Schimpf-los, stay on the line and one of our representatives will be with you shortly." The line itself was pretty typical, but the irritated delivery really wasn't. He took this opportunity to remind himself of what he couldn't say. Nothing pre-1970s, as his voice sounded too young to get away with anything earlier. Don't mention too much about the government, seeing as top secrets were called that for a reason. Don't say a lot about Italy, because he still randomly turned up on occasion, albeit not as much as during the war. Actually, it would be because Italy's (now former) boss referred to his boss as an "unfuckable lardass" that one time. That's just what he did, though. He had also managed to fuck things up with America, Finland, Spain, China, Britain and God knows who else. His brother was probably fair game, though.

"The fuck do you want?" If this hadn't been a hotline for verbal abuse, this would be the worst customer service on Earth. As it stood, however, it just served to make the callers angrier, so they would stay on the line longer, and they'd make more money. It was actually kind of admirable.

"What do you think I want? I fucking hate my coworkers! There's this American ass hat, who thinks that everyone's fucking lining up to have his babies or some shit like that, but that British bastard is the only one who can stand him, and that's just because they fuck in the supply closet when they don't think anyone can hear them!

"And the crazy Russian asshole! I swear to God he carries that fucking lead pipe everywhere! I will be a very rich man if he ever guns the place down, if I'm not dead, of course." Not like that was a real worry of his right now, but civilians didn't need to know that. "His Chinese ass toy is hardly any better! He keeps pestering the American for money, saying 'he owes him' or whatever, I don't fucking care, even though it's not true on a personal level! Talk about nationalism!

"Don't even get me started on that French fucker. Not only is he constantly hitting on anything with a pulse, but once in a while, he claims he 'forgot' his fucking clothes! We had to cancel Casual Friday because he kept showing up drunk at noon! I'm about 99% sure all of his thoughts revolve around sex and how to smell as bad as humanly possible! I would tell him to take a shower, but I'm sure he'd just ask me to join him, the rapist." He could have sworn he heard some sort of whisper that sounded like "Maple!" It was probably just his imagination, though. Or it could have been the wind.

Then an unexpected thing happened. The operator yawned! "Seriously, this is all you've got? My five year old could do better than this! This is fucking boring!" This is boring, huh? I'll show this guy boring.  
"My cousin is even worse! He needs to remove the stick from his sphincter and see that no one cares about his whiny ass! Hell, I'm sure his girlfriend only sticks with him because he's a walking gay stereotype and other men hit on him pretty much every day, and she gets off on it!

"And then there's the Greek. Especially being from his country, he should be a lot more grateful to have a job in this day and age, and how does he show gratitude? By sleeping all damn day! Granted, we've all come to the conclusion that's he's probably narcoleptic, so we don't even bother waking him up anymore. Plus, he keeps at least a dozen cats with him at all times, and some of our more distracted workers play with them instead of doing their jobs! His Japanese desk mate seems to be the only one who shows any concern for him at all.

"Our resident Spaniard doesn't seem to realize that our meetings are not 'Seducing an Italian Time,' especially when he responds by hitting him upside the head! Seeing as his usual response is, 'Oh, Romano, I had no idea you felt that way about me,' I think it's been happening a few too many times!

"And speaking of Romano… I don't even know where to start with him. He hates me for no reason, because apparently I 'tainted' his brother? Can't say I know how that works, because he's the one who practically broke my door down after I missed work one day for a doctor's appointment! The brother in question will be dealt with later, but first…

"My brother. He lost his job a while back, and I've been trying to get him out of my basement, at least for a little while. But no, he just sits at the computer pretty much all the time, screaming about how awesome he is! I think he's even made himself up an imaginary boyfriend. I mean, seriously, what's a Canada? The rest of the time, he's out with those stupid friends of his, getting ultra-drunk and leaving me to clean up the mess!"

Finally, it was time for the regurgitated cherry on top of the crap-flavored sundae of his life- Italy.

"The second Mario- I mean Italian- brother is… special. Let's just put it that way. Somehow I wonder how he's allowed out without a minder, let alone how he has a job! Also, he seems to have gotten it into his head that we are best friends, which to him apparently means 'break into my house in the middle of the night and sleep in my bed with me naked.' The first time, I tried to call the cops, but he just started crying. Plus he's always trying to touch me, and he seems to have memorized how big around my chest is."

"Sounds like he loves you." Out of all the things that could have been said at that point, that was one of the last ones he expected, second only to something like "You should kill him."

"And on top of that, I think you love him, too. If you didn't want him around, you would have called the cops. You would have told him to leave you alone. You wouldn't have cared about his feelings at all. Yet here you are. Basically you have two choices: either tell him to go away, or find out if he really does feel the same about you and get together with him!"

After trying to imagine a world without Italy for what seemed like a couple minutes, Germany decided he just couldn't. He brought color into his life, even if that color was mostly red. Whether it was seeing red with anger, the ripe tomatoes he loved, the hint of red in his hair, or the color they shared on their respective flags, it certainly was something, even if it looked downright shabby compared to the (half former) Communist Couple. And red was the color of passion…

"I'll have to do that! Thank you!" Germany actually felt- happy? It'd probably just go away in a few minutes if left alone, especially if he thought about his phone bill after this. He hung up the phone and tried to figure out what to do next. It was Friday, and Italy usually would show up while he was asleep at some point that night, so he'd just have to stay up and wait for him, right?

Luckily for him, he didn't have to try too hard to entertain himself. A few beers, some yummy wurst, and a football game were just fine for him. Dortmund vs. Bremen was on that night. Would it be better if Italy were here next to me, watching too? No! Even if I do… love him, I cannot allow myself to get sappy! It's disgusting!

Sure enough, the game was almost over when he thought he heard the key turn in the lock. Prussia was in for some reason, along with a strange pair of shoes and red hoodie with a white maple leaf on it, so it couldn't be him. Not 30 seconds later, a familiar Italian bounced into the room, laughing and singing all the way. His smile seemed to brighten even more when he saw the awake Germany, and he felt a strange feeling burst into his chest. Okay, maybe it wasn't that strange.

"Germany? What are you still doing awake? I thought you were programmed to go to bed earlier than this!" So Italy thought he was a robot. Hurray.

"I can stay up late once in a while if I want to. Besides, I figured you would be showing up at some point. I wanted to stay awake and see how you got in. I never guessed you would just use the front door. How did you get a key to my place, anyway?"

"I stole it from under the mat, made a copy, and put it back!"

"I'm not even going to get into how wrong that is. You know, you could have just asked me for a key. I probably would have given you one, since you're just going to keep getting in, anyway."

They continued in this manner for a while, until the German finally asked, "Why do you keep breaking into my house, anyway? What's wrong with yours? Surely mine can't be on the same level."

"Sure it is! Plus, Germany lives here, so I'd love it just for that, even if it were a cardboard box! I love Germany!" The Italian was acting pretty much the same way he would have if he had just said "I love pasta" or "I love tomatoes."

Germany promptly turned a ridiculous shade of red, and elegantly stuttered for about five minutes until he finally managed, "R-really?"

"Yes, really! You're always there for me, even if you don't want to be! And you're strong, and manly, and smart, too! Why wouldn't I love you? That's so silly, Germany!" Italy exclaimed, seemingly unaware that most people would deem him the silly one in that relationship.

"I-I- I love you, too, Italy. Even if you're a weak crybaby, you've got a good heart. And you have to be at least kind of smart in order to have survived this long." Suddenly, Germany found himself with a lap full of Italian, and another pair of lips pressed to his own. How did I go so long without this? The brash voice of his brother ruined the moment, as it usually did.

"About fucking time, West. Now go claim his vital regions like a real man! Come on, Birdie, let's leave the lovers alone." A young blond man shyly followed.

Germany didn't claim Italy's vital regions that night, but the next day, Saturday, was rainy and boring, so he claimed them four times.


End file.
